


To Make You Feel My Love (part 36)

by simonsrosebud



Series: Soft Rains Media AU one shots [1]
Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Breakups, Love, M/M, Makeups, Serenade, Social Media AU, Soft rains, basilton grimm-pitch - Freeform, simon snow salisbury, violin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-21
Updated: 2020-03-21
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:42:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23237143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/simonsrosebud/pseuds/simonsrosebud
Summary: Simon wanted some space, but it’s been a week and he can’t deny that he wants nothing more to have Baz back.  Good thing they think alike.
Relationships: Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow
Series: Soft Rains Media AU one shots [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1670683
Comments: 1
Kudos: 35





	To Make You Feel My Love (part 36)

**BAZ**

I don't fully expect him to hear it. Not after a whole day out; Not over that monstrous washing machine of his. And yet I play anyway. I know this song by heart, it was one I’d happened to discover around the same time I realized I wanted Simon in much more than just a “teasing classmate” fashion.

It's Adele, it's cheesy. But the words are so achingly relevant, especially right this moment, that there's nothing I'd rather play. I could play it over and over again if asked. I’d play it for days on end. Just for Simon bloody Snow. 

My violin is like another part of me, but in this situation it feels like dead weight in my hands. Like heartbreak and an anchor weighing down on my chest. Weighing my heart down, at least. That's for sure.

I'm pretty sure he knows the song. God almighty I hope he does.

**SIMON**

I'm going crazy, aren't I?

My neighbors- someone below me, perhaps, must be playing Adele really fucking loud because I can hear it all the-

Wait.

I don't have neighbors below me.

I scramble out from under my duvet and into my kitchen. I don't think I quite give a fuck that I'm in my shorts and a ratty jumper. I don't suspect many to still be up right now, anyway.

I pull back the curtain of my window. And I really shouldn't be surprised to see Baz out there in the cold. The grass is damp no doubt, but if he’s cold or wet he doesn't show it.

He looks up to my window when I open it. “You’re crazy, Basilton.” I prop myself up on my elbows. It's kind of hard to contain my emotions, especially when it's this late at night. Or I guess when I haven't seen him in days.

But Basil, the bloody idiot, just shows off one of his signature smirks and keeps playing that damn violin. “I know.” He stands. “But _you're_ crazy if you think I wouldn't stand hours out here.” He smiles a bit and my heart plummets. _Aches_ for him. “However long it takes.” I nearly curse at myself when my lip wobbles. He sniffles. I hope it's because of the cold. If he starts crying I’ll be a sopping mess.

He clears his throat and keeps playing. Fucking Adele. “Whether it's in person or not, you’ll always have me in some form.”

Those fucking letters.

**BAZ**

I'm a Pitch. Pitches don't weep. 

I try to remind myself every time I think I’m going to get emotional, but I won't lie I don't think it's working. Not with Simon looking down at me like that. Like I'm his treasure. I don't deserve to be a treasure, not lately.

“You're such an idiot.” He says it quietly, wiping his face on his sleeve. And then he starts to fucking climb out of the window, to which I stop playing and put my instrument down.

“Simon, don't _hurt_ yourself!” I rush to stand under the window. It’s not too far down, but for how clumsy he can be it's just enough.

He drops down, hard on his feet and nearly on top of me. His hands are warm and familiar when he slides them through my hair and against my cheek. He’s crying, bloody hell. I've got to hold it together for Christ sake.

He lets out a wet laugh and kisses me; and god does that feel good. He's all softness and warmth, his mouth tastes like salty tears and the scones I'd brought him just days prior. I don't care if it's only been a week, I kiss him with everything I've got, because all I've got right now is _him._ Kissing him feels like coming home.

“Come inside, Baz.” He presses his forehead to mine, and then tucks his face into my neck. His arms are anchors around my waist and there’s nowhere else I’d like them to be. “Please.”


End file.
